At the Funeral
by maeyan
Summary: Edited 12-23-02! Yukito and Touya had a good long life together. But now Touya is gone and Yukito... Yukito is not.


Sakura-chan tries to lead me to a chair, but after all I am only seven years older than she is and, I point out, I am still perfectly capable of sitting on the floor beside her. I shift slightly on the pillow and wait. I don't want to be here - duty or not.  
  
I've always loved this room. It's large, but it always seemed to be full of happiness. Maybe it's the colour? I'd argued against the earthy tones in the first place, but Touya had insisted, and as always, To-ya was right. I can smile at the memory, but my eyes do not fail to notice the colours are fading by now.  
  
The door opens and the first of the mourners enter the room. The children. Grown now, but I remember when they were no bigger than the ones they're leading in.  
  
Tears, hugs, sypathetic words and looks. Everything flows over and around me, unable to be comforted I try my best to comfort them instead. Oh, how I remember when they would burst into the room, sometimes laughing, sometimes crying. When every tearful "pappa!", "gran-pa!", or "uncle!" could be appeased with a candy or a hug or simply an "it's all right."  
  
Saka-chan of course is the one who breaks from the rest and nearly topples me with an embrace full of broken hearted sobs. Saka-chan. She's so changed from the little girl To-ya found stealing vegetables from the garden. Her bright and defiant eyes are dimmed but she holds onto me as tightly as she did as a child. I hold her for a moment just as tightly, wishing it was indeed still forty years ago.  
  
Finally her brothers and husband come forward and, as much as I love them, I am glad when they all move past. Sakura greets and embraces them as the beloved niece and nephews they are, and I lose himself in another memory. Of a young Sakura-chan standing in a make-believe milky way trying desperately to forget her own feelings in an effort to convince me that her beloved brother was indeed in love with me. I didn't believed her, not then. It had taken To-ya himself to convince me. But still the memory is one of my fondest.  
  
I let Sakura-chan take my hand, and smile at her. She loves too hard, sometimes. Ignoring herself for others. I don't like that I'm worrying her. But I don't know how to stop, either. I've never felt this way before. Not when I discovered my life was a false memory. Not when I realized that my grandparents weren't coming back... not even when I found out about Yue or what To-ya did to save him - me - us - from dying so long ago.  
  
This feeling... this one is new. It's like an absence, a hole suddenly appearing in my life. And yet, I've known it was coming. Since the first attack.  
  
And the moment I saw Touya's face in the hospital bed.  
  
I turn away from Sakura, towards the door, afraid she'll see this sudden decision in my eyes. I don't want to hurt her, but she is strong. Sakura's always been the strongest. Of all of us, even without her magic. And she won't be alone.  
  
Time passes quicker now that I have made up my mind, as if acknowledging that I'm doing the right thing. More family and friends filter through, stopping to pay their respects before heading into the main room where everyone is congregating to say their final farewells and to comfort each other. Soon, it will be over.  
  
"Keep it small," Touya said. "And make it comfortable. Let them know that I've lived the way I've always wanted and that they're the proof."  
  
And finally Hino-kun. I can't help but smile. Late as always, he puffs his way into the house, full of apologies and pastries. The young man has his father's looks and talents, but his mother's sense of timing. I remember Sakura's similar grumblings about her youngest son and Touya's frowning response: a grumbly comment about "the gaki you married", and how Hino-kun obviously got his looks and his talents from the Kinomoto side "or he'd look more like a troll" - which had earned To-ya a black eye for a week from his little sister.  
  
Hino-kun proves to be the last to pass through the door.  
  
I wait a few moments to be sure, then unfold my still wire-thin frame. I squeeze Sakura-chan's hand as I stand, then let it go; I can feel her looking at me. Sakura-chan, please? If I turn around I won't be able to go on.  
  
"I'll be... I'm going outside for a few minutes," I murmur softly and walk to the patio door.  
  
The evening wind is full of the promise of a long winter and I lean heavily against the railing that borders the extra-large porch. I give the now decades-old wood a soft caress, remembering how To-ya and I struggled to build the completely crooked barrier after Saka, Kyo, and Tomo broke the original, tumbling into the small but dangerous ravine below. I can't believe how hard I'm wishing for even those jumbled and tiring days back.  
  
The wind is now playing with my hair. Almost like a caress from a ghostly hand. I accept it for a moment, my eyes closed. It almost feels like his hand, and it calms me, cheers me, for just a moment. The way his touch always did. But then the pain comes back sharper than ever and I run my hand over my head to still the movement.  
  
I'll never see him again. Never hear him, smell him. Never hold him or feel his arms around me, keeping me strong and safe. Never again lie in the darkness and reach out, making him catch his breath when I simply curl up beside him. Never again love him, be loved by him.  
  
I can never really die. But to continue on like this... without him? I can't. I've never been that strong.  
  
I'm sorry.  
  
***  
  
Yue opened the patio doors slowly and walked into the house. He joined the gathering in the larger parlour, the one Yukito had once laughingly referred to as the guest's family room, and accepted the "long time, no see" greetings from everyone. He had just arrived in town, Yue explained when asked. Cousin Yukito had met him in the front room and then expressed a desire to be alone for a while.  
  
Only later, when curled almost childlike at the feet of his beloved cardmistress would he reveal that his "false self" had summoned him forward and then suddenly vanished. And only to her would he admit how much it hurt to be made to live again. 


End file.
